…and about that man from Nantucket

Authors note: I read an article about a surprise birthday party where guests were asked to write a limerick about the birthday celebrant.

I was inspired.

I started sketching out limericks. And I couldn’t stop! The games began. I would select a friend or family member and others had to guess who was the subject of my Irish poem (nobody is safe when I start writing creatively, you may just find yourself starring in one of my stories or poems).

This limerick is about one of my stepchildren that had recently passed their driving test in their new car.

There was a boy that drove a Honda,

His other home was over yonda.

He passed the test,

Parallel parking his best,

Will he take his car to college we wonda.

This limerick is about one of my stepchildren that was in high school. One of the things they enjoy doing is whipping up amazing culinary delectables; they are fearless, trying all sorts of recipes that we benefit from as taste-testers. They also spend ALOT of time texting. Mmmm hmmmm.

There was a teenaged baker,

Rolling out dough as a pie maker.

When they were alone,

They texted on their phone,

Pretending to do schoolwork, the faker.

Anyone that knows my husband is aware of his keen ability to come up with quotes on the fly, whether it was uttered by General George S. Patton, from a movie, or annoyingly, his wife when she comes up with some creative idea that backfires. Don’t even get me started about his quotes in French. And if you know his daughter, the singing telegram part at the end is quite humorous and definitely out of character. But who says my limericks have to make sense?

He was a military man that loved history,

And to quote statesmen and notables did he.

His boys and wife groaned,

Until his ringing telephone,

And his daughter belted out, “My country tis of thee”.

Wait, there’s more:

There was a man that loved reciting quotes,

Give him a pad and paper and he wrote;

“Shells sink, dreams float.

Life’s good on our boat“,

replied Jimmy Buffet as an anecdote.

One of my stepkids has a definite opinion on current events. In college she was the editor of the literary magazine. Her dream was to move to The Big Apple and work in publishing. She is living the dream.

She was an author and a scholar.

The previous prez and politics made her holler.

She calmed by writing verse,

Periodically emitting a curse,

And got a job in NY to earn her dolla.

Animals aren’t safe from my Irish lyrics either. A few years ago a stray cat adopted us. We named him Panther. Ron & I have always had dogs, the feline became the boss over us and until we were able to validate his reality, we created our own backstory about Panther’s life before he arrived at our farm. He was very handsome & rotund, we knew he must’ve been a show cat. Yep, a stray show cat. Note to self: blog Panthers memoir. Oh, and Mike Janney? He’s our neighbor that lives down the street. His right foot must be much heavier than his left foot, we get concerned when Panther crosses the road.

There once was a show cat named Pannie,

How he got here from Prospect Farm is uncannie.

He now runs us and the house,

Shares his food with the mouse,

Better slow your ass down Mike Janney.

We have a couple of horses; one is Happy (he was named by a 5 year old; his full name is If You’re Happy and You Know It); we refer to him as the 1,000 pound puppy; he doesn’t realize his size and would curl up in your lap if he could. Additionally, Happy is like a Dyson vacuum cleaner, he inhales his food. He especially loves salty tortilla chips and Girl Scout cookies.

There once was a horse named Happy,

Wave an apple and his teeth get snappy.

He yawns after his grain,

Even he cannot refrain,

From a little shut eye so he takes a nappy.

And then we have our Tennessee Walker, Pete. He is a little Houdini; he has figured out how to slide the bolt on his stall door so that he can let himself out whenever he wants. We had to nail a latch that hooks below the bolt to keep him safe.

He’s sleek and black and named Pete,

He’s never late when you have a treat.

Whether carrots or chips,

Share a beer and he’ll sip,

He prefers granola and oats to wheat.

Another family member had a propensity of putting on Halloween masks and popping out from behind furniture or closet doors to freak out his sisters. Nobody makes me laugh like family!

There once was a biker named Bipper,

Phone calls with him make us chipper.

He loved to pull pranks,

His clown mask caused angst,

When we need a good laugh, we call the quipper.

One of my family members married a pastor from Louisville (that sounds like the makings of a limerick itself); she is an incredible hostess. She has an amazing gift that enables her to make everyone comfortable and cozy in her home.

Linda Lou married a man of the cloth,

He grew up in the south, not noth.

She learned Dixie cuisine,

Getting pointers from Paula Dean,

Serving up split pea and ham hock broth.

Another family member has similar talents; her neighbors love the soiree’s that she arranges, making everyone feel super special.

Nancy Marie retired and moved to Port Richie,

If empty handed at cocktail hour, she may get twitchie.

She’s made tons of friends all around,

They gather as the sun goes down,

And we love when she whips up appetizers & drinks in her kitchie.

And as a special treat, here’s one written by my 15 year old stepson:

To the cottage, she is a canary,

She prances about like a fairy.

To her office she flies,

And the fat cat does cry,

Is she likely to stop? No, not very.

These were so fun to create. If you can’t think of the right words to pen in a birthday card, consider writing a personalized limerick. Heck, send me the details and I’ll put some silly prose together for you.